A Vixen's last days
by Queen Puduhepa
Summary: Foxface? Did you ever hear about her? The female tribute from District Five for the 74th Hunger Games? No, never? Well, she lost. We rarely talk about the losers here. Plus, she never fought, uninteresting. Uninteresting? Are you sure? Let me tell you about her last days in the arena to convince you otherwise.


**So, this is the English version of one of my fictions on the Hunger Games universe:** _ **Les Derniers jours d'une renarde.**_ **It's a Foxface-centred fic.**

 **The characters and story don't belong to me. They are the propery of Suzanne Collins**

 **I hope you'll enjoy it.**

* * *

"Your attention, tributes! Congratulations to the six remaining candidates! Let me inform you that tomorrow a feast will take place at the Cornucopia. We are counting on your presence. And if you are thinking about declining our offer, better think twice. Each one of you will find something there that they desperately need. You cannot say that we are not generous hosts."

Templesmith's voice quiets, replaced by the silence of the night. A feast? It means a new bloodbath. The viewers are getting bored and want to see some big show. Well, you will not give them that pleasure. You won't shed anybody's blood and no one will shed yours. Like it has been since the beginning of theses Games.

You could just choose not to go there. The problem is that you absolutely need food. You start to think about a way to get out of there alive. Fighting? You won't be much of a match. The remaining tributes are threats, especially those from District Two, those two kill mercilessly. There are still the both of them, the colossus from District Eleven, the pair from District Twelve, and you.

You are astonished by your performance: getting to this point with only hiding, watching and stealing what you need here and there. You have proved to be resourceful, stealth and witty. You have almost been caught twice, the first time by Marvel, the second by Thresh. You have brushed past death too many times for you to count, but the game is not over. You know that the end can come without warning.

Well, for the time being, you need a plan. First find the clearing, it's the first step. You have to outrun the others. You have a good sense of observation and during your training you learned how to recognize the different trees and shrubs. To the right? No, straight forward, then to the left after the hollow tree. You turn off several times, you take various paths. You would find it almost fun, has your life not been constantly in danger. The slightest sound alarms you.

At one moment, you glimpse the shape of District Two. No, Not District Two, you correct yourself, Cato. Your blood freezes in your veins. You hide behind a bush. Luckily, he hasn't seen you and keeps walking. Once you are sure he is far enough, you continue on your way.

Finally you arrive at the Cornucopia. There are no blood stains on the grass anymore, as if the gruesome slaughter never happened. You feel outraged. How can people be so indifferent to children's death? Do like it was no matter and even enjoy watching it? You, you see it, this invisible blood. It will sully this clearing's ground forever. You stay silent and still for a while, thinking about all the grieving families and all those kids who will never grow up.

 _Pull yourself together, Finch,_ you urge yourself. Apparently, there is no one in sight. Night just fell, you must find somewhere to sleep. And then? You'll come up with something. Is it better to go before or after everybody? Before, the Careers will probably stay in the area for a while. And where can you take shelter for the night? It's obvious, indeed: the Cornucopia.

* * *

You have shut yourself away in the bottom of the edifice. You will hardly be able to sleep. For around fifteen days, you have been every night on the alert. Careers like slitting the throats of imprudent people in their sleep. You saw them do it with the boy from District Ten. They kill him together, Clove, Cato and Marvel. Or, rather, they left him for dead. The boy was barely breathing when you came closer to him. You wanted to put him out of his misery but fear held you back. Then, you heard steps and you fled, leaving Sam (the boy from District Ten) dying alone. The steps were Thresh's. He was the one who gave the final blow.

The sun is starting to arise. This day will be gruelling. You know exactly what you are going to do. The feast will begin in a minute or two, you are ready.

The ground opens and from it a table arises. It must have been brought by an underground platform. Four bags are placed on it. One of them is for you, it has the number five on. Immediately, you rush out of the Cornucopia. You stop a split second to grab your bag and run as fast as you can without looking back. It feels like somebody is chasing you, maybe one from District Two. You must escape them. You must escape death.

You finally stop to catch your breath. It seems that nobody is currently pursuing you. You sigh in relief. You open your bag. Inside, there are dried fruits, biscuits, a soothing and healing balm, and a repellent against insects. Your mentor has remembered the scrapes you have gotten on your knees from stumbling on a root and your unfortunate encounter with a swarm of horseflies.

Back in your hiding spot, you rub your knees, arms, face, and the top of your back with the balm. It feels so good. Then, you nibble on a biscuit and eat some dried fruits. There is still water in your flask. Lucky you, your hideout is next to a little brook.

You have found it after you had managed to pinch some stuff from the Careers. It's a remote place, and still safe at this time. An empty earth near the watercourse has become your shelter. It's narrow and rather uncomfortable, but at least you have something to drink at your disposal.

* * *

Well-settled inside your den, you are waiting for the time to pass. A canon has resonated, the nineteenth since the beginning of the Games. A nineteenth death. You wonder if it's not the boy from District Twelve, Peeta. From what you heard, he was gravely wounded… Anyway, you'll know soon if it was for him or another. Panem's hymn rings out. The Capitol's seal appears in the sky followed by a face. It's the one of the knife thrower from the Masonry District, Clove. So, the canon did resonate for her actually. She was cruel and aggressive but she was young, she was your age.

There is only one district left which has its two children, the Twelve. You are impressed by their performance. The previous years, they rarely survived the Bloodbath. Four years ago, one survived long enough to reach seventh place, but to be both in the last five, it's certainly a first.

From one look, you have guessed that Katniss is a tough person. There is a flame inside her that makes her a survivor. If you don't win these Games, you wish her to. You have little hope however that she could win alongside her friend (if they actually are friends). First, because he is wounded, and next, because the Judges' offer seems suspect to you. They will never allow two members of the same district to win together at the end. They are too vicious to keep their promise.

* * *

The day after the next one, Thresh, the tank from District Eleven, has breathed his last breath. Only four contestants left. Three adversaries, among them a duo and a highly trained killer. You are alone, poorly equipped and exhausted. You have run out of biscuits and have almost finished the fruits. You have picked some wild strawberries in a thicket, you have found some mushrooms, but hunger remains. You are tired of being here, of the ants and spiders creeping on you when you try to rest, of the fear seizing you at the slightest crack. You are tired of feeling dirty and over all of this unbearable loneliness.

You have never been the most sociable girl in the world, but you like being surrounded. Unconsciously, it may be to not feel so alone that you seek to furtively get as close to the other candidates. OK, you have to admit it, risk taking is the first reason to it, as it is the only way for you to win over some sponsors. But seeing how little you have reaped since the beginning, it's clear they favour real fighters. What could they find interesting in a fifteen-year-old girl who never leaves her hideout except to steal some food or equipment from others? Even your little display with the mines didn't suffice to entice them. What good risking your life did to you? In the end nobody did notice you.

Frankly, you were not aware that stealing would come so easily to you. Being discrete, staying quiet, walking with muffled steps, you have done it over years. It's how you are. But, in the arena, you have stolen for the first time in your life. Well, not really the first actually. When you were younger, you used to pilfer your brother's stuff or the belongings of the little pest of your class sometimes, just to annoy them. But that was not exactly the same.

But whom to steal now? Cato? Too risky. Katniss and Peeta? They are two, they protect each other. Suddenly, a mad hope seizes you. What if you ally with them? You three against Cato, wouldn't it be great?

Yes but, if you managed to take down Cato, what would happen next? Would they turn against you? No, an alliance at this point in the Games is not judicious. You'll have to keep up on your own like before.

* * *

For the time being, your main issue is to find something to appease your hunger. You hear the furious bellowing of Cato in the distance. Is he the one who killed Thresh? Probably. He is the only one strong enough to do that. By the way, he is frightening. And he kills with a disturbing coldness. However, the raspy and broken sound of his voice makes you believe that something has destroyed him. The death of his partner? It's the only explanation for you.

Who killed Clove? You heard her attack Katniss while you ran away, but you didn't look back. Did Peeta save his partner? In his state, impossible! Thresh, then? For what purpose? Oh, it doesn't matter! There are only three obstacles left between you and the way out.

Finch! Do you hear yourself thinking? Three obstacles! As if they weren't people. You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady, you chide yourself. This sentence, your mother used to tell it anytime you did something wrong. You miss her terribly, and your stepfather and your siblings too. If you could send them a message to tell them you all love them, even your dumb elder brother.

* * *

You have gone in circles the whole afternoon. During the night, you have slept deep in the forest. Your clothes are covered with mud and dust. Your hair is dry like straw. If you could see yourself in a mirror, you think you'd be afraid. You are starving. You have nauseas and headaches since the morning. Medicine should have been sent to you, but you didn't receive anything since the feast three days ago. To relax, you inhale and exhale slowly, like your stepfather taught you.

You have been about to leave this morning, when you hear footsteps. It's District Twelve. Katniss goes hunting and while Peeta goes fruit picking. It's your lucky day! They are not aware you are so close and that they are going to feed you. You are going to help yourself discreetly. Why should you care? It's either that or dying.

Peeta gathers his picking and goes further away to another bush. It's time! You take some berries and a bit of goat cheese. Then, you quickly return to your new shelter.

You savour the odorous cheese. After that, you take a look at the berries. You never know what it could be. They look like blueberries but darker. You have some reservations. What if they were toxic?

Never mind! Come what may! You are so hungry and they are so tempting. And would Peeta have picked them if they were poisonous? He must know how to tell apart edible berrie from those who aren't, musn't he? But what if he takes them without checking...

 _You think too much, Finch._ _After all, it's a fifty-fifty chance, so take the risk. You have gone through these Games by risking your life a great number of times. Eating these berries will be the last risk for you to take._

Without further delay, you stuff a handful of berries in your mouth. Their taste is acid. A burning acidity.

A last risk to take. The last risk you will ever take. There are only insignificant fruits and they are killing you. Nightlock. It has been nightlock. Your stomach and throat are on fire. You stumble. Your head is spinning too fast. You lose balance and collapse. In a last brief moment of clarity, you think: "At least, they didn't change me."

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this story. I'm looking forward on your thoughts on it.**

 **Don't hesitate to tell me what is wrong and what I should correct or improve. English isn't my mother language so they might be some faults.**


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